Monday, 31 August 2009


Over the past few months, I've had the paranoid moments (brought on by my past experience) where I've thought "ah well, that's that then. It's obviously over" . . . and then been proved wrong.

This time not so much. I think I can safely say it IS over.

I didn't expect it to end quite this way though. Without closure of any sort. Without even confirmation. Mind you, if you were never officially "seeing" a person, perhaps it's okay to just ignore a person until they go away. It just seems strange when the last contact you had with them was arranging another meet-up.

I have wondered if there is something else going on that's prevented him from contacting me. But this seems highly unlikely.

I think I've had to just try and find excuses for him because it's so weird that someone I thought so highly of is actually capable of doing it this way. Weird. And unbelievably hurtful.

When I look back at how it all began . . . I honestly didn't see the end being quite like this.

Friday, 28 August 2009


I sent a dirty picture via text last night.

I think.

Hmmm. That's what happens when you start drinking at 11pm on a weeknight, I guess.

But last night was weird. I'm no stranger to a dirty text or picture, don't get me wrong. But why was last night special???

Well . . .

I have no evidence that I actually SENT the text.

I woke up this morning and clearly remembered taking the picture with my Blackberry, choosing the "send via MMS" option, typing in a message (although I can't remember what it was), and off it went into cyberspace . . . or whatever the MMS equivalent is.

But it's not in my sent items. Or my drafts. Or ANYWHERE. I checked.

I thought perhaps I'd imagined it but a quick look at the pictures saved on my phone and it confirmed I had indeed taken that picture. And I KNOW I sent it.

(Possibly the fact I also didn't get a response made it even more confusing. But that occasionally DOES happen... Unfortunately.)

So I can only assume that I deleted the evidence myself, so as not to make myself feel humiliated in the morning.

Apparently I'm censoring myself now. Hmmm.

The problem is, it's one thing to censor yourself and then forget the next morning that you ever did it . . . but if you HAVEN'T had some sort of alcohol related blackout, you're still going to remember . . . and therefore be very confused.

That's all.

PS And in case you're wondering, it was a picture of my boobs . . .


I like to think I'm not all that naive, not all that gullible but . . .

I'm one of those people who is ALWAYS taken in by advertising. Which is weird - you'd think as a girl who has a marketing degree under her belt, I might actually have a semblance of sense when it comes to PR. But no . . .

All my life I've been a sucker when it comes to advertising. If it's something that remotely appeals to my vanity, I'm right on in there. I may SAY I don't believe it, but I'll try it all the same.

I believe this started back when I was a kid. I don't have shiny hair. Never DID have shiny hair (even BEFORE i started bleaching the shit out of it). But I ALWAYS believed the adverts that said if I used their product, shiny hair would be mine. It never was. Yet I kept trying. The adverts got more and more elaborate. To FOOL me I suppose. It worked. I kept using.

My hair was STILL a mess . . .

Then there was the pore strips. My god, I tried EVERY BRAND GOING. Hell, I used to try and CELLOTAPE my blackheads away so I figured there was some logic in the blackhead strips. Once again . . . apparently not. For all the effort I put into ripping those buggers out . . . they still remain.

The most recent, though, is the most humiliating. It would be the advert I found in the National Enquirer, late last year, for some sort of weight loss miracle called Equi-chew. Or some crap like that.

You are reading this and shaking your head in disbelief right now, right? You are thinking (perhaps even saying ALOUD) "Is this girl on this PLANET? How can ANYONE be so naive?"

I did it myself. Told myself . . . "Oooh, I'm just doing this 'ironically'". Deep down though . . .

I WANTED it to be true.

And I was still surprised and disappointed when it didn't work.

I am the world's biggest sucker.

But yet, when the next ad came dropping through my letter box (given I was on the mailing list from the previous time) saying I could lose five pounds at a time by putting a random strip on my tongue . . . I still thought "but . . . what if it actually HAPPENED?"

Such is the way I'm conditioned, I guess.

I didn't ORDER the strips for my tongue, you'll be glad to know.

But it WAS a struggle . . .

Yep. . .

Wednesday, 26 August 2009


I'm in the process of trying to work out what I want to do for my birthday this year. I'm not sure whether to have a "party" or not.

On the pro side, it will be my 30th so I guess that's reason enough to do something I haven't done since I was a kid. On birthdays I tend to just say "Oh we'll all just meet in this place at a certain time" and then we all do. Well, some usually don't turn up in the end.

Which is partly why I am a bit unwiling to make things "official". Because if you book somewhere (and I'm not talking anywhere big, I'm just talking a booth or a side room somewhere) and then hardly anyone turns up, well . . . if it happens to me, I'm gonna feel a bit dumb.

As it is, there's a chance my sister will be out of the country on holiday, one of my best friends won't be home from Florida until the day OF my birthday (which is a Sunday - I'd rather have my party the night before anyway), and one of my other friends already has a prior commitment. So I'm not sure whether it's worth it or not.

So I ask . . . if it was YOUR birthday, what would you do???

Tuesday, 25 August 2009


I need sleep but its not happening. My mind won't stop working, I can't switch it off.

I essentially got twenty minutes of uninterrupted sleep last night. Some fitful other stints of sleep but not enough to actually keep me fully functioning today. Tonight I came home, had dinner, decided that enough was enough - I would have to go to bed early. Put on my pjs, got in my bed at half eight. TV on quietly because I was not remotely sleepy. But of course, sleep wouldn't come. I tossed and turned for two and a half hours, occasionally venturing onto facebook via my phone because trying to sleep??? Oh so very boring. Eventually at eleven pm, I had to admit defeat. It's now 1.20 am, and I'm still wide awake, but tired, all at the same time.

I wish I could work out how to stop my brain from overthinking everything. The inability to sleep seems to be a symptom of this depression I currently seem to be suffering from. The inability to switch off obviously relates to my problems with other people, and how I can't figure out what is going on and why they treat me the way they do.

I have to try and sleep again now but I know it's not going to come easily. I know I'm going to be trying to void all the thoughts in my mind, or count sheep as a distraction, and all I'm going to be able to think about is if someone is going to stick to their word, the text they sent me tonight. If I should push it, if I should back off, if I should simply give up and call it a day and cut my losses. I don't want to. But the lack of sleep is making me feel slightly crazy. More emotional, more highly strung. And now n top of everything else, I'm stressing about the fact I can't sleep! Which makes it even HARDER to do so!!!

It's a Catch-22 situation alright.

Please give me all the positive thoughts you can spare. That I can get a normal (for me!) sleeping pattern going again, and that I can get the other stuff resolved too. I'd really appreciate it.

And I promise to try and be a bit more upbeat in my next post. Right now, I blame the fatigue...

Saturday, 22 August 2009

TIME OUT . . .

I have had a revelation, of sorts, today.

I am really REALLY unhappy. Again. I feel stressed, I feel depressed, I am absolutely sick of nothing going the way I hoped. I feel used. I feel like I'm stuck in some sort of rut and I don't know how to get out of it.

I feel completely and utterly out of control. Of my own life.

I wish for once things would work out as planned. That I could see into the future and know that everything is going to be okay. That, in the end, it will all work out. Even then I might not mind the obstacles in the way as much. Because I'd know it would all be good eventually.

I wish my happiness didn't depend so much on the actions of the other people in my life. I wish I could work out how to flip off the switch that makes me feel that way.

Apologies for the negativity, but I just needed to have a rant. Maybe it'll be a weight off my shoulders now. But probably not. The way I feel right now this could just keep on running.

Then again, maybe tomorrow I'll wake up and feel all good again. We'll see . . .

Friday, 21 August 2009


So this is my last PROPER day off and it has been a fairly eventful week considering I barely left the flat. However, today it is Mich's birthday so I'm heading out to meet her shortly so we can get good and pissed. Yay! (I say that like I HAVEN'T been drunk every day this week. Ha.)

In the meantime, and so she has lots of lovely messages when she comes back, please stop by her blog to wish her Happy Birthday! She is a very welcoming host, and she might even have a glass of wine waiting for you! ;)

In other news, I just unloaded the washing machine of the first lot of laundry I had done for about two weeks and have just realised how perilously close I was to running out of knickers. Phew . . .

Wednesday, 19 August 2009


You know how I love my spam posts, right? And how ridiculous some of the titles are? Well, I had a thought today that I would have a go at making up some ridiculous spam subjects of my own. Not to actually SEND to anyone - let's face it, I have nothing to sell (apart from my body, but let's not go there.) Just to post on here. For fun. You know, to see what I've learned from all the spam I've "studied" in recent months. I wonder if I can make my own titles as ridiculous as some of the spam I have had in the past. I'll have a go anyway.

Let's try some in the making-one's-penis-bigger genre . . .

If you turn your little friend into a giant, women will fall at your feet.

When the little worm becomes a snake, the ladies will quake. (See? I can do the rhyming ones too!)

Why cry at home over the size of your cocktail sausage when you can have a jumbo hotdog that the woman will love to munch on? (Actually, is that one going a bit too far???)

You're so small you're an embarrassment to all men! (Tough love. I've been told I'm good at that...)

Make her say "ouch!"; not ask "is it in yet?" (I think this one is my favourite...)

Have a rod that you can poke into every woman's business.

Be inside her, not outside in the cold. (That sounds suitably random, I reckon.)

In terms of weight loss type spam, I guess I've learned that rather than go for euphemisms, it's more about over-exaggerating your claims . . .

Lose up to eighteen pounds in a week with {insert name of random berry here} supplements. (Yes. Very believable.)

or perhaps . . .

Be as thin as an Olsen twin in a week! (even more believable. Of course.)

And then who can forget the amazing watch spam??? I mean, isn't that the best? The general rule of thumb here appears to be to mix the boring and the random together. Hmmm . . . this is actually the most difficult . . .

If your watch is old, buy a new one! (Hmmmm. That's a little too straightforward I guess.)

Buy a watch and stop being late for your fabulous new life.
(That's more like it.)

If you buy our watches, you will be the King of the Cheap, Luxurious Watch Planet. (remember how the planet of watches was mentioned in my previous spam post of last week? I thought I'd better throw that in somewhere. You know. Just in case it actually does exist . . . )

Anyone want to give it a go yourself? I'd love to hear your ideas for silly spam subjects . . .

Tuesday, 18 August 2009


Have I done a post called this before? Undoubtedly. I don't care. I'm happy.

Today was a far better day than yesterday due to a short and unanticipated (is that a word?) visit from the guy. Who I have not actually seen (apart from two seconds prior to his play last week) for almost two months now. Yay! I feel a bit better about the situation now. Which is always a good thing. And some afternoon delight is never a bad thing . . .

In the meantime, here is a clip which made me cringe. Mainly because . . . well . . . I would be Larry David in this clip . . .

Saturday, 15 August 2009


A couple of weeks ago, me and a mate of mine were chatting on facebook about a list of 100 books that everyone should apparently have read. My friend found it was amazing because although she doesn’t read, she’d read about 10 of them. I’d read 23 or 24, from what I recall. There was a fairly random mix on there, with books by George Orwell, JK Rowling, Helen Fielding, and Tolkien among others. Most of the classic books which I had read on the list were part of required reading in school as I don’t really do this kind of reading these days. (Classics? Bad. Chick-lit? Gooooddddd.)

The book that really got us talking though was The Magic Faraway Tree by Enid Blyton. We had both loved that book, loved the entire series. Did any of you read it? The magical tree which had amazing worlds arrive at the top of it. Some of the lands were like fairytales, others more like nightmares. But it was always fun to find out what happened to them when they ventured up there.

A few days after this I was in the pub with Mich and the subject of that book came up again as we wondered what land WE might like to find at the top of the Far Away Tree. “Ooooh, I should write about this!” I exclaimed. (Hmmm, it seemed like a better idea when I was slightly inebriated.)

Here’s some ideas from me:

COCKTAIL LAND – In Cocktail Land you can just THINK of a cocktail and a glass of it will appear in your hand. You can drink as much as you want, and never get too drunk . . . and no hangovers the next day. And if by some fluke you DO get a hangover . . . there is a delicious cocktail cure that will instantly cure it! Result!

MAN LAND – Its full of handsome men, all for me. I can eye them up from afar, talk to them, or do anything I like with them. (I mean, ANYTHING!) And all for FREE! Woohoo.

CHICK-LIT LAND – It has the world’s most giant sofa, loaded with cushions (and a fleecy throw, in case I get cold), a fully stocked massive fridge and every chick-lit book ever written. How awesome…

What land would YOU like to find at the top of The Far Away Tree???

Thursday, 13 August 2009


During our ten hours or so stuck in airport limbo before travelling to Majorca, I started flicking through a little-known book called "He's Just Not That Into You".* Yeah, yeah, I know, you've never heard of it, right? It's not been completely and utterly overhyped. It's not been made into a film which pretty much contradicted everything it stood for. Oh no, you won't have ever been exposed to that, right?

So the basic premise of the book as it appears to me, since you ask, is that we shouldn't make excuses for guys who haven't called us, or had time to spend with us, or anything like that. If he didn't call us, or make the time for us, he just isn't that into you. Wow. That's truly amazing. I never EVER thought of it that way before. My eyes have been opened.

Right. Seriously? I read it (when I say "read", I mean more "skimmed" but I got the general gist of it.) and my first reaction was utter panic. I felt like someone was reading my mind or had listened to most of the conversations I've had about guys throughout my adult life. I felt like the book title should actually have been prefaced by my name. And perhaps delivered directly to my door on the very day it was published. In fact, screw that, why didn't they send me a proof copy?

It's been on my mind ever since, on and off. And in that time, I have came to the conclusion, that's its a load of utter bollocks.

Okay, perhaps that's a slightly strong sentiment. But I don't think it's entirely true anyway.

I'm sorry, but no one man can speak for all men on the way they react to things, or deal with matters of the heart. I don't believe that for a minute. It would be like me assuming that all girls deal with things exactly the same way I do. Which would be completely ridiculous on my part to do so.

The male author of the book said that guys will go after a girl if they really want them, no matter what the obstacles. Is that really the case? Always? I know guys who are outwardly confident but admit that when it comes to girls they can't make the first move. Similarly, I know guys who are seeing a girl they don't seem to be entirely sure they like, yet see them often, make weekend plans, yet won't admit they're "officially" a couple, despite doing all those things couples do and not seeing anyone else on the side.

In both the book and the movie of the same name, we're told that those stories you hear of the girl who had a twat of a boyfriend who then suddenly changed and became Mr Commitment, and other "urban myths" such as this are not the general rule. They're the EXCEPTIONS to the rule. Yet the movie, after expounding this theory to us once again, turns it on its head and produces not one, but TWO (possibly even three?) exceptions to the rule. So how can we believe anything else about the book?

Fair enough, I believe the book gives us a bit of insight into the male psyche. But I don't think its fair that one guy should speak for all men. I don't think it can be THAT clear cut.

Or perhaps it's just that I don't WANT it to be true . . .

So what do you think about it? Have you read it? Heard enough about it to judge? Watched the film? Any of the above?

Do you think it's completely true, there's some truth there, or is it just a load of rubbish? I'd love to know your thoughts . . .

*I didn't pay for it, just so you know! My sister got it free with "Glamour" magazine.

Tuesday, 11 August 2009


Every couple of weeks I've found I have enough silly spam titles built up to do one of these posts. Which is good when I'm suffering from lack of inspiration. So what have I received in my spam filter recently? Let's have a look . . .

Auto-filter blocked your mesasge

If only it would block YOUR messages. (And, while you're at it, perhaps you should use a spell-checker in future?)

She is bound to lose her mind over your great size.

I am bound to lose my mind if I get another one of these messages . . .

Some men were lucky to be born with a big penis, but some can easily get it.

Viagra? Enlargement? Stealing someone else's???

By enlarging your instrument you will manage to keep up your good name.

Is this aimed at musicians? Hmmm . . . I think not . . .

Change your little pecker to enormous beast.
Having a big beast in your pants will make you a beast in bed.

I'm mildly scared by both of those subject titles . . .

Women never get bored in bed with a well-endowed man.

If he's boring, then we will get bored.

. . . ;)

More inches in your pants, less steps to success.

Yeah. It'll be kinda like having a third arm.

(Now THERE'S a subject title they could use!)

Enjoy the delicious taste of having a monster in your pants.

Planning to have some ribs removed???

Guess where we are

If the correct response is "outside my window", I'm going to shit myself.

Welcome to the planet of cheap, luxurious watches

Wow, the solar system gets more intriguing by the day . . .

Sunday, 9 August 2009


. . . and it felt like most of them were in Edinburgh today.


And that's not including the tourists!

I had to pop through to Edinburgh today to pick up some tickets for the Fringe festival. That guy I've been seeing is directing a play and I ordered tickets online for it. But the Fringe website said I had to pick them up from the Box Office, which was the vaguest instruction in the world. Was there a Fringe box office for everything, I wondered? Or was it the box office of the venue that particular play is being held at? I had no clue, and I didn't really want to ask him because I was worried I'd seem a bit stupid. So me and my sister decided to get the train over to the capital today to find out, rather than leave it til the last minute tomorrow night.

Now, I'm not a big fan of Edinburgh. I couldn't even really tell you why. Granted there is a bit of a Glasgow/Edinburgh rivalry but then strictly speaking I'm not a weegie either. But I find Glasgow to be far friendlier in general, and the fact I've lived there for over six years means I do feel far more of a loyalty to it than I could ever imagine feeling to Edinburgh. As a result, I don't go there very often. Which means I don't know the place. I know if you get off the train at Waverley Station, you're at the main shopping area. But trying to work out where the box office was in relation to this? Was not my finest hour. Luckily my sister proved in Majorca she actually seems to have the navigational skills in the family. Phew.

Getting the tickets, however, was quite a task. First there was the hour long train journey, in one of the most cramped trains I've ever been on. Then, once we reached Edinburgh, we realised that the map did not look like the real thing. We ended up having to walk up about a million (mild exaggeration, but still!) stairs to get to the correct street, then we had no idea where to go. There were so many performers touting their shows, and so many tourists wandering the streets, that we couldn't even stop to get our bearings. Finally we located the box office and queued up. This of course meant we were sitting ducks for people to come and bombard us with leaflets and explanations about their shows. To be honest, there were quite a few I would love to see. Like Princess Cabaret: Objectify This, a satirical show about Disney Princesses. OR . . . Gingers - The Musical! Which is about eight people with ginger hair who meet in a retreat. Random much??? It sounds awesome!

After we'd been queuing for about ten minutes, my sister noticed a sign that said for pre-paid tickets to go to the Fringe shop next door and downstairs. WTF??? Had the instructions mentioned this??? Oh no, it had just said to go to the Box Office. After some debate, we decided to risk leaving the queue (which by now had grown substantially behind us), discovered there was a pre-pay machine to stick your card into and print off your tickets and . . . Bob's Your Uncle! I wasn't happy we'd wasted so much time queuing for nothing, but whatever. The important thing was I had the tickets.

After that, we spent the day shopping. Well, when I say "shopping", we popped into Harvey Nicks long enough to remember it is highly overrated, and then my sister gave her credit card a bit of exercise in French Connection. I am skint until payday next week and therefore couldn't spend anything. Apart from on a late lunch of chicken fajitas and strawberry daquiris.

I had a good day, but I'm tired, my tan is starting to peel :( and I hate Edinburgh even more. And am going to have to do it all over again tomorrow night.

Why can't they hold the Fringe in Glasgow??? I know its selfish of me, but I don't care!!! I don't like the travelling!!!

Thursday, 6 August 2009

PTV . . .

In Majorca, our apartment had extremely limited TV. Well, limited TV that we could UNDERSTAND, that is. It was CNN or MTV Germany. Yeah, I know, I know, I don't speak German. Thing is, most of the time, it wasn't a problem. Because most of the reality type shows were in English with subtitles and only the narrative in German. Result!!!

Now normally I wouldn't touch MTV with a ten foot bargepole . . . while wearing protective gloves. Because it is WAAAYYY too full of reality tv and "documentaries" for my liking - I like my music channels with actual, you know, MUSIC on them. When did the M in MTV stop standing for "Music" and start standing for "Moron", huh?

But when you're abroad and desperate for a tv fix . . . anything in English will do. So I started to become aquainted with a couple of very low brow programmes.

Seriously, who comes up with the crap MTV try to pass off as actual TV??? It was car crash viewing . . .

for example - that lovely dating show which isn't so much dating as a slagging match and lesson in humiliation. Woohoo!!! I've never watched such a bunch of up-their-own-arse ponses before in my life - which is pretty amazing considering I did watch the first eight seasons of British Big Brother. My favourite bit were the introductions . . . which showed off their twatdom to the extreme. One girl's line "this conservative republican loves Bush", said in a very suggestive way, cracked me up for about twenty minutes. Oh dear.

Seriously, who wants to go on these shows??? They are absolutely insane. The shows AND the contestants.

Or how about "Date My Mom", where the guy goes on dates with three moms in order to ascertain which daughter he will choose, sight unseen. Grrreeeaaattt idea. The mums are actually more embarrassing than the daughters, which is saying something. The episode I saw involved a girl begging her mum that no matter what she said, not to say she looked like Dolly Parton. It could be worse, I found myself thinking, she could tell him you looked like a man with a blonde wig on.

Then there was "Fist of Fury" (I THINK that was what it was called anyway!), where a bunch of five friends would be given unique challenges to do for money, in a quiet venue (library, museum etc) so they had to make as little noise as possible . . . while being slapped in the face repeatedly with fishes, wearing goggles full of onions (my eyes were streaming just watching that), or having a heavy bookshelf land on their head. All very "Jackass" I guess . . . but why put yourself through that kind of crap??? Is it for the money? It ain't that much money when split amongst five. Is it about the fame? WHAT fame? Reality tv stars are a dime a dozen these days, who gives a shit about them??? I couldn't work out their motivation at all.

Then there was "Parental Control", where the parents hated their kid's significant other and decided to set them up with someone else. In the episode I watched of this, there was much trash talk between the girlfriend and her man's parents (the girl's gum ended up in the woman's hair!), some unashamed and embarrassing flirting from the potential dates involved and some frankly shocking behaviour from the guy, who gave up his girlfriend for one of the other girls in the end. Hmmm - that was a lasting relationship.

There was another show which actually DID give me food for thought, but I want to save that one for another post. Suffice to say though, even THAT one was just trashy!!!

But anyway, it made me wonder what shows MTV will come up with in the future. How about . . .

DATE MY DOG - A guy goes on a date with three girl's dogs and establishes from their behaviour which girl he would ultimately like to date.

SILLY DEATHS - People kill themselves in the stupidest way possible, a la The Darwin Awards. Whoever wins (ie dies in the stupidest way) wins and their family gets a massive amount of money.

CELEBRITY "N(EX)T" - Wouldn't it be great to see, I don't know, Brad Pitt having to choose between all his exes? See Gwynnie, Juliette, and Jen trash-talking each other in the bus while Ange wickedly plotted how to steal him away from all of them??? Now that would be a ratings winner surely???

Have these perhaps already been done? And I just missed them???

Does anyone else have any ideas for MTV??? You know, just in case they pop by in search of some inspiration???

(Seriously, dudes, Celebrity "N(ex)t" is the way to go . . . You can give the prize money to charity or something. Or whoever wins gets to keep all Angelina's kids as well as Brad. Think about it . . . )

Wednesday, 5 August 2009


It's funny the ways people come across your blog, isn't it? I know I've discussed it before, I know MANY people have . . . but let's face it, when you have an all new batch of search terms, and can't be bothered typing that much then . . . why not share them??? (Yes, this IS a lack of inspiration post, how did you tell???)

So, OTHER than searching for me by my full name (STILL freaky!), how are other internet-aholics venturing slightly off route and finding themselves smack bang in the centre of "Insert My Blog Name Here"??? I'm glad you asked . . . Let's find out!!!

itchy bug bites on legs nyc

do you get a lot of bug bites in NYC?? Seriously, I'm curious . . . Considering I wasreferring to mosquito bites especially...

women always accept invitations to bed from hung men

I couldn't work this one out at first then remembered it was one of my spam email titles. Phew...

how do i name my blog

Are you asking ME for advice??? I couldn't think of a name myself. Didn't you guess???

what to put on ant bites that itch incredible

Ask a doctor???

"everyone else is fully dressed"

Either this person was searching for a lyric or was in a situation much like the clip below...

famous pen chewers

I suppose I am SLIGHTLY famous . . .

how can i download the pontins crocodile song

I have no idea but I COULD sing it for you. But I won't. Here's a link to it on youtube though... Man, that brings back memories of kiddy holidays!

chewy labia

Er . . . when have I EVER mentioned labias??? Oops. I just did.

why some dead people walk around

zombies? ghosts? stupid bloody question???

kelly jones wife

well i did claim to BE his future wife once upon a time. And one day I will be. Yum yum yum. I mean, come ON, who could resist him???

He even looks hot as a clown!!! ;)

And while i was looking for a "Coupling" clip involving Jane naked, I found this one and had to share. Look at it as a belated "Cheer Me Up Tuesday" clip. Or perhaps just a helpful tip . . .

Tuesday, 4 August 2009


What I believe was the sailing club at Palmanova (my Spanish is so basic, its English). I also don't think this is where we could have got a boat from. Shame - because it was very handy for us . . .

I think we all know that things rarely go completely to plan - whether the plan is best or worst laid. This always seems to be the case when it comes to holidays too. I'm not saying that's necessarily a bad thing. It's just I guess with holidays you have even LESS control over your plans. Don't know what I mean? You'll understand in a minute, when I present to you "My Holiday in a Nutshell" . . .

One of the beaches at Palmanova - lovely (apart from the sand!)

And another view of it . . .

ORIGINAL PLAN: We have a nice leisurely taxi journey to the airport, arriving in plenty of time for check-in.
The taxi driver gets us there on time, but tries to kill us.

Okay, I'm exaggerating a little. But he DID take a slip road waaaayyyyy too fast, lost control of the car and swerved into the side of the road. I got thrown against the door in the process and banged my elbow up pretty bad. We spent most of the rest of last Sunday discussing how we nearly could have died, especially as my sister said she was convinced he was drunk. Oh dear . . .

After clearing check-in, security, passport control and all that shite, we head to the pub where we fill our empty bellies with chilli nachos (the Brunch of Champions), and enjoy a bottle of rose before proceeding to our departure gate. We will board the plane and leave at the expected time, arriving in Majorca at six pm Spanish time, at our apartment in Palmanova around about an hour later, and be unpacked and ready to head out for dinner and some drinks by about nine pm latest.
The plane is delayed. By eight hours. Thus fucking up all our plans. We end up mildly sozzled before 3pm, due to not having anything to do other than drink. We then have to STOP drinking, since we don't want to be so drunk we don't get let on the flight. We didn't get any information at all until about seven pm (bearing in mind the plane's scheduled departure time was one fifty five pm that afternoon) at which point we are told our plane is completely fucked and we're waiting for a plane to come back from Alicante. The plane which left Glasgow about an hour after we were meant to depart. It's all okay though. I mean, we got a complimentary drink on the flight. Of course, that made it all better. That made up for the lack of information from the airline. That made up for the fact that we didn't get to our apartment until after 3pm the following morning. (I am, of course, being sarcastic. Which means you know I MUST have been pissed off because usually a free drink would appease me at least a little!) I didn't end up properly unpacking the whole trip because I'm not used to not unpacking the second I get there. (Okay, so for once I had an excuse for being a lazy fecker. I suppose I can thank the airline for that at least . . . ) On the upside, at least the apartment was nice.

The balcony (we had TWO actually - this was the better one) in our apartment

Daytime activities would involve plenty of sunbathing and dips in the sea, as well as a trip to the waterpark in Magaluf and perhaps a boat trip (we like to be near water as much as possible since we believe that helps our tan come along quicker).
It was too hot to stay outside for long periods of time, we got annoyed because the sand on the beach kept sticking to us (I was permanently covered in sand the whole week - seriously), we didn't have the energy to even work out how to GET to the waterpark (or work out where the boats left from). Do you know how hot it was? The pages started falling out of our books!!! We couldn't understand why at first, it had never happened before; it appears the glue was melting in the heat!!! That being said, I did love the beaches. They were so pretty. I just wish sand wasn't so damn annoying! My sister thought she had become the Sandmonster, and I feared it was infectious . . .

The Sandmonster herself, in disguise . . .

Align Centre
This is the most activity I could manage, due to the heat!!!


At nighttime we would get ready and head out for dinner and some drinks, before possibly heading onto a pub. Nothing too heavy though.
I bet you thought I was about to say we kept having heavy nights out and crawling home at eight in the morning??? Nope! We went the opposite way really. The problem was, we had found this supermarket that sold rose fizzy wine for less than two euros. And it was really nice. How could we resist drinking that over a bottle of wine which cost five times as much in a restaurant??? (Especially since we're convinced the restaurant we were in the last night served us that very same wine we had been enjoying all week!) We'd end up mildly inebriated before we left the apartment, get pissed off in the restaurant because after we'd eaten we tended to have to wait about half an hour to even ASK for the bill, and then end up back in the apartment drinking our spare bottle of rose we'd bought earlier along with a few Malibus and Pineapple Juice, and watching MTV Germany.

Oh, and one memorable night we ended up drunk and playing in the swing park. According to my sister, I got stuck halfway down the slide. Okay, it can't have been that memorable as I don't really remember that bit . . .

Ever so slightly sozzled??? Moi? Surely not???

I make it sound like I didn't have a great holiday. It's more for entertainment value than anything else. Despite the hitches and glitches that occurred along the way, I had a great time. It's the first time me and my sister have ever been away alone together as well and since we haven't lived together for six plus years now, it was good to get some time with her. Apart from the overhanging cloud of the terrorist attack and the memorable night that we found a lizard in our apartment and sort of - er - inadvertently killed it, it was a great holiday.

I am very sad to be back. The weather has been . . . how shall I put it . . . utter SHITE here. Suddenly I wish I was sweating to death once again . . .

On a slightly related note, I just realised I never posted my second lot of Rhodes photos. I will try and remedy that in the next week or so. It's quite time consuming doing a post with photos in it though. This has taken me nearly an hour.

Or possibly that's just cos my laptop is crap . . .

PS. On another slightly related note (since it is travel-related), if you fancy helping a fellow blogger get the chance to go to Oz, pop on by Elle's blog for more info. There might be a chance for you to go too...

PHEW . . .

Getting back into the whole blogging thing is hard after a week away from my computer. I've been reuniting myself with facebook and its many games and stalking activities instead. Fun fun fun! (I sound sarcastic probably, but I don't mean it - I just can't understand why its taken me the whole night to play Mafia Wars, Geo Challenge and upload a couple of photos from my hols. Weird.) I'll try and get back to it later (ie after I've slept and went to work and all that) and I realise that I still have to talk about the other things that went wrong on holiday OTHER than the bombing. So I won't leave you high and dry.

In the meantime, why not go and check out my good friend Mich's new blog? If you saw her guest post last week you'll know she is my real life friend (yes, I do have SOME!) and she just started up a blog the other week. Go give her some love . . . :)

Monday, 3 August 2009


I had a great time on holiday, although many things went wrong. I'll go into that later. The main thing i wanted to mention was the terrorist attack that occurred in the very resort I was staying in on Thursday.

Back in 2003, my parents went to Benidorm, and while they were there 3 bombs exploded in various hotels. It seems a long time ago now, I can't even remember whether people were hurt, or killed or both. The thing was though, I didn't know about it when it happened. I'm not very good when it comes to the news. I've admitted that before. But I remember that my parents were the last to know about it pretty much, despite being nearby.

That is pretty much what happened to me in Majorca. We didn't know anything was wrong until my flatmate text me on Friday morning to ask if we were okay as a car bomb had killed two policemen in Palmanova - which was where we were. This had happened on the Thursday afternoon. The next thing my brother in law had phoned my sister to check we were okay, then Mich text me too to check I was okay.

We honestly hadn't a clue. People in the next resort said they had heard the explosion. We had heard nothing. The airport had been closed down for several hours. We knew bugger all about that either. On Friday, not long after we found out, a German journalist tried to interview us as we lay on the beach. We didn't co-operate. What could we say? We hadn't known anything about it until an hour or so beforehand. Even now, I still don't really understand what went on.

All I know is its weird to be so close to something like that . . . and yet only find out when someone back home tells you. Just shows sometimes you can be right in the thick of something and have no clue at all . . .